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Another Move
Page 3
Wanda agreed, and
after making sure both girl and horse were all right, returned to her place in
the middle of the ring. She had them walk around the ring a few more times to
settle down. While they were doing this, the riding instructor replaced the
fallen jump.
 Soon the girls
moved from a slow sitting trot to the faster rising trot. Katy started posting
on the correct diagonal as soon as Countess picked up the pace. Katy worked with
the mare as much as she could, although school took up a lot of her time. The
city stable wasn't very large, but there were a few paddocks and a good-sized
outdoor arena to practice in. Katy was starting to introduce Countess to flying
lead changes and a few more advanced dressage tricks, things that would put the
mare in advanced categories in shows. Katy had done lots of this sort of work at
her old barn, where she had been for almost a year. Although her favorite
activity was jumping, Katy wanted her own horse - once she finally got one - to
be a three-day eventer, so she had to know dressage in addition to cross-country
and stadium jumping.
Countess was such
an agreeable horse that Katy already had her jumping over three feet and any
outdoor item she could find. This would be useful in a cross-country course. The
mare was learning quite a number of advanced dressage moves, also.
Throughout the
rising trot part of the lesson, Wanda had them bending the horses' necks for
flexing exercises, making them do it with out changing the size and shape of
their circles. Katy, having no trouble with this at all, couldn't figure out why
the other girls were veering all over the arena. Seriously, how hard could it
be?
During the next
exercise Diane dug her heels into Rocket one time too many. Finally fed up with
taking her beatings, Rocket planted his front feet from the trot and gave a
little hop with his back end. Diane sailed over his head and landed face‑first
in the only muddy spot in the arena. The stop alone would have been enough to
send Diane off, but Rocket had obviously wanted to assure his victory. Katy
could have sworn the cute pony had a smug smile on his black lips. The girl
jumped up immediately, wailing. As suddenly as she had started, though, she
stopped abruptly and searched for her crop. She found it, wiped it and her face
off with her shirttail, and climbed back onto Rocket, a mean look firmly
implanted on her face. Wanda ignored the girl's behavior, having experienced it
on many occasions. Katy could tell Diane had something in mind for later on,
although she couldn't begin to imagine what it might be.
After a short
canter and several other exercises, Wanda set up a pattern of poles in a sort of
figure eight. The girls had to go over them single file, making their corners as
round as possible. After each had done the exercise a number of times, Wanda had
them go to the side of the arena so she could set up a series of poles and
jumps.
Once she finished,
she called out to the waiting students. 'Katy, why don't you start us off with a
rising trot over the poles, then immediately into a canter as you come out of
them.''' She explained the rest of the exercise and finished with, 'Make sure
Countess is set up correctly for all three jumps, or she'll knock down the last
cross rail. Go ahead, whenever you're ready.' Wanda stepped back and crossed her
arms over her chest.
Katy drew in a
deep breath and centered Countess on the course. The mare eagerly leapt into a
trot at the signal, heading for the jumps. She trotted over the poles, lifting
her hooves high enough so she didn't hit any of them. She surged forward as they
neared the last pole, and Katy rode a half-halt to slow her, sinking into the
saddle.
The mare checked
her stride enough to be in the proper position for takeoff. At the right moment
Countess rose gracefully into the air and arched her body over the jump, landing
exactly in the right place. She cleared the next two jumps with practiced ease
and Katy pulled the mare down to a walk, grinning, and rode over to join the
little group that was watching her.
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